Jail House Rock
by melissakay
Summary: When Dean and Cas find themselves sharing a cell in prison for impersonating FBI agents, Dean fights a gang of bullies and his growing feelings for his cellmate. Will a dose of cabin fever bring out the wild man in Dean Winchester?
1. Chapter 1

**Jail House R****ock**

(Or: You know what they do to guys like us in prison)

_**Supernatural Crackfic**_

_**Rating**__: MA 15 or anything that means not for kiddies or anyone with a heart condition or moral objection to some man-on-man love! _

_**Starring: **__Castiel and Dean Winchester_

_**Disclaimer:**__ I don't own these characters, but I haven't done anything here that the producers haven't thought of, themselves, those naughty dogs! _

* * *

Chapter One

'Jesus, Cas!' cried Dean, as the door of the divvy van was slammed behind them. 'This is all your fault! If you hadn't been… well, _you_, the Klugmeiers would never have realised that we weren't who we said we were! Did you know it's a federal offence to impersonate an FBI agent?'

'Of course I knew.' Cas sighed, sitting down across from Dean and rubbing his face with the heel of his hand. 'I'm not stupid.'

'No, you're just new to the ways of the world. I realise that. But did you have to give the game away?'

'It was an _accident_, Dean.' Cas favoured Dean with one of his infamous non-blinking stares. 'When will you get over it?'

'When Sam finds us a lawyer and gets us the hell out of this mess, that's when.'

'That's if Sam doesn't decide to impersonate a lawyer' said Cas, in a snarky tone. 'I wouldn't put it past either of you to try something like that.'

'Hey, don't diss Sam, okay? He's doing his best.'

'I didn't say he wasn't…'

'Will you girls shut the hell up?' yelled one of the cops in the van's cab. 'I can't hear my I-pod for your squabbling.'

Dean bit his lip and stared down at the vinyl-covered bench seat beside him. Someone had written, "Welcome to hell, bitches" in black marker. Yeah, what do _you _know of hell, Dean thought, bitterly.

* * *

The boys were thrown in a cell with a double bunk at the end of a row of cells, each with three solid brick walls and one of bars. All they got in their three by two and a half metre enclosure was a chair, toilet and sink, and a couple of threadbare grey army blankets. Dean sank onto the bottom bunk, and almost immediately Cas groaned.

'Aw, you _always_ get the bottom bunk! You _know_ I get vertigo on top.'

Dean shook his head in bewilderment. 'You came from _Heaven_! How much more on top is _that_? You should be _used_ to high places.'

That was met with a chuckle from the prison warden, who winked salaciously at Dean. 'Now _there's_ a line if I ever heard one! He came from Heaven… hahahaha…. Get a room, already! Oh wait – you've already got one.'

'Ignore him.' Cas said, quickly, seeing Dean's cheeks flush with embarrassed anger. 'He knows nothing of our situation. If you get angry and hit anyone in here over something trivial, it will only make matters worse.'

'Yeah, no shit, Sherlock.' Dean replied, and laid back on his bunk, his hands folded behind his head. 'Well – if we're going to be in here overnight I might as well get some sleep.'

'Overnight? Hahahaha…' They could hear the warden halfway down the corridor.

'I thought that asshole had gone back to his box of donuts.' Dean muttered.

'Chill, okay? I'm trying to think.' Cas did his best thinking on his feet, but in such a tight space, that meant pacing back and forth. After about five minutes of this, Dean was ready to kill him. So it was probably lucky that angels aren't all that easy to kill! (If nigh on impossible!)

'Just lie the hell down, will you? You're driving me crazy.'

'I'm sorry Dean – pardon me for trying to think of a way to get us out of here.'

'I told you, Sam'll sort it. We'll be out of here by morning. You'll see.' Dean gave Cas a reassuring wink, but Cas didn't look too reassured. 'Well, that's a different attitude to the one you had when we were first arrested!' he said. 'What, you don't blame me, now?'

'Oh, I still blame you. I'm just not so angry about it, anymore.'

'Well… that's _something,_ I guess.' Cas conceded. He shucked off his trench coat and hung it on the back of the chair, then sat down and began to take off his shoes. Placing them side by side under the edge of the chair, like a regimented soldier, he pulled his tie loose, and hung that up neatly, as well. Dean watched all this with some interest. It never failed to amuse him how anal Cas could be about some things. But when the angel started to unbutton his shirt, Dean drew the line!

'What are you doing?' he asked. 'It's not as if we have any pyjamas in here!'

Cas frowned at him. 'I'm not sleeping in this shirt. It's not one of those non-iron ones, you know.'

Dean sighed. 'Okay but… just… can you at least, please, keep your pants on? I do _not _want to see you climb up that ladder in your tighty-whiteys.'

'Okay Dean. I can do that.'

'Good.' Dean sank back against his pillow and stared at the graffiti on the wall beside his head, which was so banal and stupid, it put him right to sleep.

* * *

The next morning, Cas was up with the birds, which didn't impress Dean at all. Especially not since the angel had an annoying habit of stretching and bending first thing!

'Jesus Christ, Cas, you're like a middle-aged woman' Dean complained. 'You're not going to seize up if you don't bend over and touch your toes every morning! This vessel of yours… gotta be; what? Early thirties? Hell, you're probably fitter than _I _am.'

'And this is how I stay that way.' Cas reminded him, going down on all fours and performing push-ups on his knuckles.

Dean rolled his eyes, sank back down on his mattress and covered his head with his pillow.

* * *

When the warden came at eight o'clock to unlock their cell, Dean sprang to his feet. 'Holy Shit – he did it! Get up, Cas, we're out of here.'

Cas peered over the side of his bunk at the warden. 'Is that true? Did Sam post bail?'

'I know nothing of this Sam. Breakfast's up, girls! You've got five minutes to get down there, or all the good spreads will be taken.'

Dean and Cas followed the warden to the dining hall with much trepidation – especially Dean, who'd seen enough prison movies to appreciate the possible danger they were in, mixing with the general population. He clued Cas in on The Rules on the way. 'Guard your tray with your life. If possible, try to sit with your back to a wall. And never, and I mean, _never_, look at anyone in the eye. I know that may be hard for you, Cas, but no one here likes to play Who Can Stare the Longest Without Blinking. You'll wind up getting shivved.'

'What's shivved?'

Dean groaned. 'Forget it. I'll explain later.'

The boys figured there was safety in numbers, and stuck together like clams as they navigated the breakfast buffet. Dean groaned when they got to the spreads and condiments basket. 'Argh! There's no Peanut Butter Super Crunch!'

'I guess we had to get here early.' Cas replied, as he held out his plate for a paltry serving of bacon and runny eggs. Dean looked at his friend's breakfast with distaste. 'How can you eat eggs over-easy? They look like snot.'

'Gee, thanks for the visual, Dean.'

'You know, I think that warden doesn't like us. Otherwise, why would he have woken us up so late?'

'We were already up.'

'Yeah, but he could have come and opened our cell a bit earlier, so we could get a decent breakfast.'

'He was probably hoping he'd catch us in a compromising position.'

Dean put his tray down at a spare table and glared at Cas. 'What do you mean by that?'

'Well, after you made that comment yesterday, about me coming from Heaven, I think he thought you were flirting with me.'

'Get the fuck out!'

'I would if I could, Dean, but in case you haven't noticed, we're stuck here.'

Dean sighed. 'It was a figure of speech, Cas. It means… you're pulling my leg.'

Cas put down his knife and fork, and frowned, pondering human speech idiosyncrasies, probably. 'I'm not pulling your leg.'

'Forget it.'

'Speaking of which, you were going to tell me what being "shivved" means. Is it something sexual?'

Dean pushed his plate away, put his head on the table, and wrapped his arms around it. Cas, perplexed, simply picked up his knife and fork, and resumed eating.

* * *

After breakfast came exercise time, out in the yards. This was the bit that had worried Dean the most. He explained to Cas that exercise time meant playing with the "big boys" and they needed to stick together, and stay out of everyone's way. Cas didn't seem to have a problem with that. A big Samoan guy had given him a wink at breakfast, and he was keen to keep a low profile in case the Coconut decided to look him up in the yard.

'I think we should see if this place has a gym.' Dean suggested. 'It might not hurt to be seen lifting some weights, you know? So people can see we're strong enough to take care of ourselves.'

Cas squinted and gestured at someone behind Dean's back. 'People like them, you mean.'

'Cas! I told you not to stare at anyone!' Dean hissed.

'I wasn't. They're headed this way.'

'Aw, fuck.'

'Oh, looky what we have here! A princess and an accountant.'

This was from a large guy with tatts crawling down both arms and a ginger handlebar moustache. Cas couldn't help but giggle. 'He called you a princess.'

Dean glowered at Cas. 'How do you know he wasn't talking about _you_?'

Cas grabbed the lapel of his coat. 'I dress like an accountant, remember? You said so yourself.'

'When did you ladies get here?' Ginger Moustache asked. 'I must have been in solitary or I would have noticed two hotties like you wandering around.'

'Oh God, he called us hotties' Dean muttered, out of the corner of his mouth. 'Told you I was too pretty to go to jail.'

'We got here yesterday.' Cas told Ginger. 'My name is Castiel. What's yours?'

Ginger glanced over at his mates, who were standing aside in a huddle, talking amongst themselves, and giving either Cas or Dean the odd appreciative wink, depending on their personal preferences.

'I'm Trevor,' Ginger said. 'But my mates call me Monkey.'

Cas looked puzzled. 'I've never heard humans refer to _themselves_ as Mud Monkeys before…'

Dean groaned and slapped his forehead. 'Great! Just great.'

Ginger squinted at Cas. 'What did you call us?'

'I didn't. I was simply thinking out loud that it was strange to hear humans call themselves…'

'He's a little…odd.' Dean interrupted, before Cas could repeat the "Mud Monkeys" bit again. 'Don't mind him. He's on medication for it.'

Cas gave Dean a glare that clearly said "What the fuck?" but Dean ignored it. 'You know how it is,' he continued, seeing that he was well on his way to placating the big guy. 'You have to protect those who can't protect themselves.'

'He's a nut-job, then?'

'In a word, yeah.'

'That changes things. See, we don't mess with people who have… mental issues. We just think it's wrong.'

'Mess with… mess with how?'

'You know. The old initiation rites. Showing newbies who's boss. We'll leave your friend out of it.'

Dean was relieved. 'Great. Thanks. We really appreciate it.'

Ginger smirked. 'I didn't say anything about leaving _you_ alone, though, Princess.'

* * *

'Ow!'

'I'm trying to be gentle.'

'You're not trying very hard.'

Cas was sitting on the edge of Dean's bunk trying to work the kinks out of his shoulders. All day the Rat Pack, which was what Monkey's mob were called, rode Dean like a wild stallion (not literally, although he _did_ feel like that was the case), making him fetch and carry in the laundry room, do all the dishes at lunch _and_ mop the dining room floor, which was originally Monkey's mate Packrat's job. They explained that it was all about initiating Dean into the prison way of life, and that he'd thank them for it later. But the entire time, the pack had sat at a table in the dining hall, talking about him behind his back and wolf-whistling every time he had to bend over to wring the water out of the mop. His back ached, his feet were killing him, and all he wanted was a hot shower and a Bud Long-neck after the day from hell. Cas's attitude wasn't helping. _His_ afternoon had consisted of a long-winded theosophical discussion with the resident Jesus freak; and then a couple of hours in the prison library reading up on ways to get Dean and himself out of prison, considering that they hadn't heard from Sam since they were arrested. For all they knew, Lucifer could have had Sam charbroiled for lunch. Either that or Uriel could have made good on his threat to get rid of Dean's brother if he ever stopped being useful. Whatever the reason, Sam hadn't tried to call, and Dean was worried sick.

'Has anyone ever told you you're crap at massages?' Dean snapped. 'Just quit it, you're making it worse.'

'Jeez, I'm sorry.'

'Well…' Dean sighed. '_I'm_ sorry, okay? I mean, it was _my_ fault those guys picked on me instead of you. I shouldn't take it out on you.'

'Actually it was _my_ fault.' Cas reminded him, as he stared into his hands. 'If I hadn't mentioned our little insult to humans this morning, you wouldn't have had to pretend I was crazy. You should have let him beat me. You _know_ I can take it.'

'That's not the point and you know it. We look after each other in here. That was the deal. I wasn't going to let those guys beat the shit out of you because they thought you were insulting them.'

'That was very noble of you, Dean. I want you to know I appreciate it.'

Dean laid his cheek on his pillow. 'That's great, Cas. Now be a good angel, and shut the fuck up, so I can get some sleep.'


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

'God damn it.**' **Dean slammed the phone down on its cradle, ignoring the frown on the face of the warden in charge of keeping an eye on inmate's phone calls. Sam was still not answering, and it was not like him. The only way his brother would neglect to check his cell phone was if he was dead. Or busy in the sack with some girl. But Sam, unlike Dean, was no skirt-chaser. There would have to be a really, _really_ good reason Sam wasn't getting back to him. Like death.

He trudged back to his cell, only to find Cas sitting on the chair in the corner of the room, staring into space.

'Not again.' Dean sighed. 'Can't you do your praying thing somewhere else? 'Cause quite frankly, it creeps me out. It's like you're here, but you're not here. You might as well be a mannequin for all the conversation I get out of you…'

'Dean.'

'…I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm not saying you're not allowed to pray – I wouldn't do that…'

'Dean.'

'I'm just saying it would be far better if you would do it up on your bunk, so I don't have to look at you while you're spacing out over there…'

'DEAN!'

Dean jumped out of his skin. 'What?'

Cas sighed. 'I wasn't praying. I was communicating with the other angels through telepathy, trying to find out if they know anything about Sam.'

Dean blinked. 'You can do that – telepathy, I mean?'

'It's just one of the uh… perks, as you call it, of being an angel.'

'Cool.'

Cas stared at him. 'Well?'

'Well what?'

'Don't you want to know what the other angels said?'

'Not if it's bad news.'

'Well, you can rest easy. It's not bad news. Sam is just out of range of a cell phone tower, that's all.'

Dean frowned. 'How can that be considered good news? He's supposed to be trying to get us out of here, not going on an impromptu road trip through the Bible belt.'

'He's not in the Mid-West.'

'Then where is he?'

'He's in the South.'

'Oh for Christ's sake…'

'Blasphemy, Dean…'

'God can blow me.' Dean growled. 'Did your saintly friends happen to tell you what my brother was _doing_, down South?'

'Helping an old school friend of his with a slight poltergeist problem, Uriel says.'

'Sam doesn't know anyone lives down that way.' Dean was pacing the room by this point. 'Jesus - He really pisses me off when he decides to pull a disappearing act like this! We need to get out of here…'

'Dean… '

'Yeah, I know, I know. I apologise for taking the Lord's name in vain.'

'Well, thank you, but I wasn't talking about that.' Cas was standing now, and when Dean turned, all set to complete another lap of the room, he ran straight into his cellmate.

'Do you mind warning me before you do that?' Dean asked.

'Sorry, Dean. Uriel did put me onto a lawyer that can handle our case, if you're interested.'

'What, someone qualified to say "They did it, keep them in there?" I really can't see how we're going to get out of this, Cas. We did the crime! There's no getting around it. Time for Plan B.'

Cas tilted his head, curiously. 'Plan B?'

Dean put his hands on the angel's shoulders, and looked him right in the eyes. 'We break the hell out of here.'

'It was a great plan in theory.' Dean mused, the next day at breakfast. 'The trouble is, I don't know how the hell we're going to pull it off.'

Cas chewed his toast with a thoughtful look on his face, then put down his fork, and swallowed. 'I_ could _just get us out of here, the way I got you out of hell.'

'Oh no, you don't! I saw what you did at my gravesite! Those poor trees didn't stand a chance against you. What if you kill someone, by accident? Besides, I thought your powers had deserted you?'

'Not all of them.' Revealed Cas, cryptically. 'I can feel my strength returning, bit by bit. Maybe by tomorrow morning I will have the required power to get us out of here.'

'Oh, no! No, no, no! You _know_ I don't like being transported, or zapped, or whatever it is you do. I'd rather pass a kidney stone, thank you very much.'

'Yes, human bodies _are_ a good deal more fragile than ours.'

Dean scoffed. 'This from the man who wanted the bottom bunk because heights make him dizzy.'

'My powers may have crossed with me to the vessel but I still suffer from _some_ human weaknesses.'

Dean raised an eyebrow. 'Oh yeah? Like what?'

'I need to pee.'

'Cas… don't take this the wrong way, but you've really _got_ to learn how to talk like a man. We don't say "I need to pee". We say "I need to drain the lizard" or "I have to hang a slash." Peeing is for women and old men with catheters.'

Cas put down his knife and fork. He looked ever-so-slightly put-out. 'Well, then… I need to drain the uh… lizard.'

Dean grinned. 'That's better.'

After Cas had left their table to go and ask permission to return to their cell, Dean stared down at his plate of scrambled eggs. It was an unappetising, watery mess, and his toast was soggy. He wondered whether there was any point in filing a grievance with the powers-that-be about the food in this place. Probably not, come to think of it.

While he stared straight ahead, two fists slammed down on either corner of the table in front of him. Dean looked up into the leering face of Monkey, and sighed. 'What will it take for you guys to leave me the hell alone today? I'm not exactly in the mood to lick your boots clean.'

'Oh, I wasn't thinking about that, Princess.' Monkey said, smiling in a way Dean really, really didn't care for. 'I've got something else planned.'

'What would that be, exactly?'

'As if I'm going to warn you ahead of time! No, you won't know where and you won't know when, but I'm gunning for ya, Baby.' Monkey reached out and tweaked Dean's nose. 'And just between you and me, _I can't wait.'_

While all this was going on, Cas was having his own troubles. After visiting his cell and finishing his ablutions, he headed to the prison gym, as he had for the last two mornings, to work off breakfast and try to build up enough muscle tone to worry that scary Samoan that kept giving him the eye. Starting on the Pec-Deck, he glanced around nervously, hoping Dean would have the same idea and join him in a hot, sweaty workout. There _was_ safety in numbers, after all…

'Hello, Pretty.'

Oh God, thought Cas, his nuts crawling up into his body with The Fear. It didn't even occur to him to say a quick Hail Mary for taking the Lord's name in vain. He had a feeling he'd be doing penance for a few of those, in a minute! Too bad that of late, his angelic powers had been deserting him, thanks to rebelling against his Father's wishes.

Before he knew it, Cas found himself face to face (and I mean in extreme close-up) with his Number One Fan on the inside. The Samoan's big face broke into a lusty grin as he ran his eyes up and down Cas's body.

'You don't need to work out, Baby' said the Coconut. 'You're fine, just the way you are!'

To Cas's horror, the big guy put a hand on his crotch and squeezed. His large, round, brown face got close enough that Cas could see the oversized pores on his nose.

'I could pop you like a bottle of champagne.' He whispered, starting to rub and tug with his big, strong hand. Cas opened his mouth to yell for help, but nothing came out. He tried to ignore the feeling that was building in the lower half of his gut, his thighs, and of course, his groin. How could his body betray him like this? Damn vessel!

Suddenly there was a hand on the Coconut's shoulder.

'Get your hands off him! He's _mine_!'

The Samoan let go and Cas almost burst into tears with relief. 'Dean!' he cried. 'Thank you, God!'

Dean winked at Cas, salaciously. 'Well, how many times have I told you not to come here alone, Huggy Bear? You're just too cute – you might get in trouble, and just _look_ what's happened.'

He turned to the Samoan. 'You _know_ the rules around here, buddy. You don't cut another dude's lunch. It's just _not_ cool'

The Samoan held up his hands. 'I didn't know! Honestly. I'll… I'll leave him alone, from now on.' He turned back to Cas with a wistful expression. '_Such_ a pity… he was just my type.'

'Jesus Christ, you were lucky, there.' Dean sighed, once the Coconut was out of earshot. 'Have you got a death wish, or what?'

'I'm sorry Dean. I didn't think.'

'No, you didn't. But you may yet have a chance to save my ass in return. Monkey's got it bad for me. He says he's going to get me, one way or another. We've got to stick together, pal. Look out for each other.'

'Oh!' said Castiel, suddenly. He'd just remembered something. 'I had an idea how we can get out of here.'

'Okay' said Dean, alternating arms as he pumped iron with ten kilo dumbbells. 'Let's hear it.'

Cas laid out his grand plan while Dean listened intently. When he was finished, he glanced at the older Winchester brother for approval. 'What do you think?'

'You know what? That could actually work.' He smirked. "You've been watching Prison Break, haven't you?'

'A little.' Cas admitted. 'What else is there to do in here?'

Dean shook his head, chuckling. 'What amuses me as that they're showing a program like that to a jail full of frustrated crims. Wonder how many times people have tried to bust out of here?'

Cas shrugged, and wiped his shoulders with his towel. 'I just hope I still have some of my old angelic powers of persuasion, otherwise this could go downhill badly.'

'Whatever. Before you put your plan in action, though – have a shower. You're all sweaty.'

Dean and Cas hit the showers after the gym, one standing guard as the other quickly ran the soap over himself, rinsed off and towel-dried. Dean wrapped his towel around his waist and kept watch as Cas took his shower, making sure that Samoan was nowhere in sight. Scanning in all directions, including behind his cellmate, his eyes couldn't help but be drawn to Cas's smooth, golden skin, the muscles rippling underneath, ribs showing as he lifted an arm to soap his pit. Dean found himself watching in rapt attention as the soapy water sluiced down Cas's flank, making his skin all wet and shiny and… Wait! What the _hell_ was he thinking?

Blinking, he turned his head quickly, as he felt his cheeks burn with shame. Then he had to turn his entire body, because there was a rather obvious tent-pole going on under that towel!

Jesus H Christ, Dean thought, I've been in this place too long already – I can't believe I'm starting to find Cas disturbingly attractive!

'There you are, Princess.'

Oh crap, Dean thought. Come on, Cas – you're up. I save you, you save me. You owe me!

Monkey walked over, his minions watching from a safe but convenient distance. Dean guessed that they were probably only in for piddly stuff like B&E's or grand theft auto and didn't want a longer stay tacked onto their sentences for brawling. Monkey however, was a different story. Dean had heard a rumour he was doing time for bestiality with a donkey. He was in here for the long haul. Well, at least two to five. He wouldn't care about doing another three months for reaming some poor sod in prison.

Monkey's eyes slid down to Dean's towel. 'Haven't rubbed out your morning glory yet, Princess?' he asked. 'I'll do it for ya.'

Cas jumped to his defence quickly. 'That's _my_ job.' He said, coming up behind Dean and putting his hands on his shoulders, caressing them a little too sensually for Dean's liking, and said 'We're _together_, together.'

'I don't give a flying fuck.' Monkey growled. 'Bend over Princess, and take it like a man.'

Monkey's pals were getting closer, forming a guard around him like a pack of wolves. Dean was cornered. He couldn't go backward – that way was Cas and he couldn't deal with that much closeness right now – and Monkey was right in his face. Then he had an idea. 'Okay, look… if I do this, I do this _my_ way.'

Cas pretended to be shocked. 'But Dean! What about us?'

Dean winked at him over his shoulder, and mouthed the words, 'Trust me.' Turning back to Monkey, who was sizing him up and licking his lips, Dean said, 'I'll do it if you let me blow you, first.'

Monkey's eyes widened. He liked that idea! He unzipped his leather pants as Dean went down on his knees.

'Ready, Big Boy?' Dean asked.

'Oh, I'm _ready,_ all right.' Monkey replied, in a guttural voice.

Dean put his hands on Monkey's hips – and head-butted him in the crotch as hard as he could!

Bedlam ensued. Monkey was knocked onto his ass with the force of Dean's assault, and while he floundered for a few seconds, Dean got to his feet. Unfortunately he'd forgotten he was only wearing a towel, and as he rose from one knee, it fell to the floor, leaving him bare-ass naked.

'I'm gonna kill you!' Monkey raged, his friends helping him to his feet. Dean, not caring any more about the towel, followed Cas's lead and bolted from the shower room. 'No – First I'm gonna fuck ya, _then_ I'm gonna kill ya!'

As they raced back to their cell, hoots and whistles of appreciation followed.

'Shit, they're coming' shouted Dean. Where the hell were the wardens when they were needed? Of course he knew the answer to _that_ question. Rumour had it there was a game of Texas Holdem around ten o'clock in the staffroom and Barney – the warden that didn't like Dean and Cas and made no bones about letting them know about it – always put up big bucks for it. Dean hoped Barney was getting his ass handed to him right now. It would serve him right.

They reached their cell door just as Monkey reached the cell before theirs, his minions in hot pursuit. Cas threw open the door and dived in, but Dean was a second too late. Monkey clapped a hand on his shoulder, pulled him backward and slammed him up against the bars beside the door.

Cas watched in horror as the big guy started pummelling Dean. Blood sprayed across the bars and almost hit Cas in the face. Suddenly he felt himself getting angry. Not just indignant, but royally pissed. His blue eyes narrowing, Cas willed his angelic powers back into being so he could smite Dean's attacker, who had spun him around against the bars, and was preparing to screw Dean in a most uncomfortable place (and no, not the back of a Volkswagon).

Dean pleaded to Cas with his eyes. Help me, they said. A trickle of blood ran from his nose and a cut on his cheek. There was a reddish bruise already forming on his cheekbone. The way Monkey was lubeing himself up, spitting onto his hands and rubbing his groin; it would be no time before he made Dean his bitch in the Biblical sense. Cas felt righteous anger flow through him.

'Leave. Him. Alone.' He warned the Ginger Ninja. 'Or I'll smite you all the way back to the rock you crawled out from.'

'Oh yeah?' scoffed Monkey. 'I'd like to see you try.'

Cas flexed his hands. He could feel the old electricity running through them, zapping around metacarpals; sounding like an almighty knuckle-crack. He held out a hand toward Monkey and slammed him backward against the cell door across the way. Dean's mouth dropped open. He hadn't seen Cas use any of his smiting powers for ages. What a time for the angel of the Lord to get his mojo back!

Cas looked at the two guys holding Dean in place to receive a whipping, and with a flick of both hands, threw them in opposite directions. Dean scrambled to safety and slammed the cell door closed behind him. He favoured Cas with a grateful smile. 'Thanks, man.'

'You're welcome.'

Monkey's minions took off as fast as their legs could take them, looks of terror on their faces as they shot a glance back in Cas and Dean's direction. Monkey staggered to his feet, his face pale.

'What are you?' he asked Cas. 'You're not human, that's for sure'

'I'm your worst nightmare.' Cas replied. 'Now get the fuck out of here.'

Dean stared at Cas in amazement, as Monkey took off after his mates.

'What?'

'You just… you just said…'

Cas looked blank. 'Huh? What?'

'You just said the F-Bomb, man! You _never_ say the F-Bomb! The worst swear word I've ever heard you say is shit, and even then you practically flog yourself for punishment.'

Cas frowned. 'I did, didn't I?'

'Yeah,' said Dean, as he pulled on a pair of pants. 'If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were starting to act like an actual human. Apart from throwing people around like they're rag dolls. But hey, I'll allow that. You've got your mojo back. And what's the first thing a guy should do when he gets his mojo back?'

Cas frowned, perturbed. 'I don't know. But I have a feeling you're going to tell me.'

Dean punched his arm, lightly. 'Put your plan in action, of course! You're going to the infirmary, pal.'

'But I'm not sick.'

Dean landed an uppercut in Cas's midsection, folding the angel in two. 'Now you are.'


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Cas's plan had come to him earlier that morning, when the prison doctor had visited the guy in the cell opposite theirs. Apparently he'd heard voices telling him the wardens were going to raid his cell so he took every pill in his stash, and promptly flipped out.

Idiot, Cas thought. But the prison doctor – a young woman with long, flowing chestnut hair and a butt like Kim Kardashian's – reminded him of an episode he'd seen of Prison Break. A devious plan started to form in his mind.

And now he was about to set it in motion. Trouble was, now that the time had come, he felt that he just couldn't lie to the doctor about a fake injury. It was wrong, and it wasn't his way.

'I think you should do it.' He told Dean.

Dean raised an eyebrow. 'But – this was your plan. Besides, I don't have that freaky Jedi Mind Trick going. Sure, if I wanted to, I could persuade her to go out for dinner, but as far as leaving a door unlocked…'

Cas's expression was inscrutable. 'Dean, I have absolute faith that you can pull this off.'

'Well _I _don't! How am I supposed to convince a woman I've never met to help us escape?'

'I'm sure the answer will come to you at the right time.'

Dean sighed. 'Quit with the cryptic fortune cookie quotes, will you?'

'You do have visible injuries she can treat.' Cas pointed out. 'And you're always saying I'm a _terrible_ liar.'

'Well, that's true.' Dean conceded. 'All right, I'll do it. Just don't blame me if she gets a whiff of what we're up to and tells all the wrong people.'

Cas stared over at Dean, who was sitting on his bunk, looking like he was about to suffer a prostate exam. 'Just hit her with the old Dean Winchester charm and she'll be pudding in your hands.'

'Putty.'

'What?'

'The expression is, putty in your hands… oh, never mind! Let's just do this thing.'

* * *

'Wow. Who did this to you?'

Dean winced as the pretty doctor dabbed the cut on his cheekbone with a cotton ball soaked in antiseptic. 'I can't tell you that' he said. 'I don't dob.'

'The Prison Code, right? Fair enough.'

'Will I need stitches in any of these?'

'No. They're not deep enough. Just a couple of steri-strips should do.'

'Carla – can I call you Carla?'

'Sure.' A slight blush stained her cheeks. Ah, Dean thought. I'm getting to her.

'Well, Carla… I was just wondering if there was a Mr Carla at home. You know, not that you would ever consider dating someone like me.'

'Why not?'

Dean perked up. 'Huh?'

'Well, as you said, you're only in here for impersonating FBI agents, and you did it as a prank, so you'll probably only be in here for a couple of weeks. A month at the most. I don't really consider that a capital crime.'

Dean liked her smile, and returned it with his never-fail crooked grin. 'So you'd consider it?'

She shrugged. 'Sure. Why not?'

'Well… what if I said we could have a romantic date in here later tonight? If you leave the door unlocked I could sneak some food in from the kitchen – I pull dish duty every Wednesday – and we could light a couple of candles…'

Carla narrowed her blue eyes. 'Dean Winchester, are you trying to seduce me?'

'I might be.'

Their eyes met for what seemed like a frozen moment in time. 'I could get in real trouble for this, you know.' She told him. 'But what the hell… I hate this job, most of the time, anyway. Bunch of sweaty, stinky criminals trying to goose my butt… You're about the best thing to come through this door in eighteen months. And you would not _believe_ the amount of rectal tears I have to repair in this place…'

Dean winced. 'Ew.'

'Sorry' Carla replied. 'I don't mean to freak you out; I know you just got here. But I feel I should warn you. This place is like a gay cruise, the amount of man-on-man action that goes on.'

'I'll try to remember that.'

'Good' said Carla, smiling at him again, and undressing him with her eyes. 'Now take off your t-shirt, you've been hugging that rib for the last half hour.'

* * *

Cas sat in the waiting area behind a partition, waiting for Dean to work his magic on the prison doctor. Every now and then he'd half stand up in his seat and peer over the half-wall at the two of them, to see if there was any obvious flirting going on. And he was getting a positive on that, from the looks of things. The weird thing was, whenever the doctor touched Dean, Cas found himself wishing it was _him_ giving the first aid. He stared at the scene before him, watching that shameless harlot use her wiles to get Dean to lift his t-shirt so she could check out his form… err, bruised ribs.

Cas turned away quickly, and was faced with a young candy-striper with blonde hair and a bright smile. 'Ah – there you are! Come with me, please.'

Cas opened his mouth to tell her that he wasn't who she was looking for, but she shook her head. 'No, don't bother making excuses, Matron said you needed that exam, and I'm doing pre-med, so she said I could watch. I've never seen one of these done before, it should be _fascinating_…'

Too much of a gentleman to talk over a lady, Cas kept quiet. The only noise he made was a strange 'Ugh' sound when he saw the large black female nurse pull on a latex glove; before he passed out.

* * *

Dean could not stop laughing. Cas scowled at him. 'I don't find it remotely amusing. In fact, it was a gross invasion of privacy.' Half an hour later he was still having trouble sitting down.

'Well,' said Dean, struggling to keep a straight face, 'At least you know you have a healthy prostate.'

'Forget that. All I want to know is, are we on? With the plan, that is?'

Dean nodded. 'She'll leave the door unlocked for us. There's a fire escape over by the elevators. We'll get out through there, and then you do your little transporter thing; and we're out of here…'

'I thought you didn't want me to do that?'

'I'm a desperate man.' Dean told him. 'Besides, if one more heavily tattooed biker-type gives me the eye, I'm going to become a monk.'

Cas winced. 'Human beings are so primitive.'

Dean raised an eyebrow. 'What, there are no gay angels in heaven?'

'There's no need for sex in heaven.'

'There's _always_ a need for sex.'

Cas was feeling increasingly uncomfortable, and it had nothing to do with his recent run-in with the male-health nurse. 'I beg to differ.'

'So you're seriously telling me you could live without it?'

Cas avoided Dean's eyes for once. 'I don't think that much about it, to be honest.'

'Really? Wow, man, you need to get laid.'

'Dean…'

'Seriously! What about that blonde Candy-Striper? She seemed pretty interested in you.'

'Not even if we were the last two people on Earth.' Cas stated, flatly.

Dean clapped him on the back. 'Well… when we get out then. I'll find you someone. You need some serious de-stressing, pronto.'

Cas's jaw set on edge. 'And I suppose you and the doctor….' He stopped before Dean could detect the jealousy in his voice.

'Hey, it was your idea!'

'Not for you to have sex with her! She was just supposed to help us get out.'

'And I can't thank her personally for that?'

Cas climbed the ladder to his bunk, and turned toward the wall. He didn't understand anything anymore. Least of all the feelings he was having towards Dean Winchester, of all people. Maybe all prison was, was a giant social experiment, to see how long it took men to turn to their buddies when women were in scarce supply. Whatever these new and unwelcome feelings were, he didn't want them.

Give me guilt and burning resentment, Cas thought. Those I can handle!

'I'm going to get some shut-eye' Dean announced. 'If you get up first, wake me. I've got to get ready for my date.'

Cas mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like "Shove it up your ass".

Dean laid down on his bunk and rested his head on his hands, smiling to himself. Unless his ears were failing him, Castiel was sounding more human by the day!


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Sam squinted into the darkness. A damp, musty odour pervaded the air, which was stagnant. There was no breeze whatsoever; no relief from the chilly, endless darkness. He'd been around the room on his hands and knees more times than he could count, feeling for a way out. There was nothing. Just brick walls – no, more accurately, a single brick wall that never seemed to end. There were no corners to this room. His feet were wet. And he was so, _so_ hungry…

More than food, he craved demon blood. He hadn't tasted any since he and Dean had sent Ruby packing. His skin itched, and his eyes were dry. The need, the awful, clawing need had re-emerged in him and he could think of nothing else. But he'd tried screaming, he'd tried climbing the walls – literally – and nothing. Sam was starting to believe that he was in Hell.

Suddenly, something hard hit him in the right temple.

'Ouch!' he said, and put a hand out to protect himself from further attack. But instead of being struck again, he felt the rounded edge of what appeared to be the bottom of some kind of container. Using his sense of touch, Sam soon realised the object was a bucket, and that there was something attached to it. A rope! He looked up. Nothing but darkness greeted him.

'Who are you?' he yelled. 'I know there's someone up there!'

'Well gee, aren't _you_ the genius.' Said a voice that sounded irritatingly familiar, but he just couldn't place it.

'Let me out of here.' Sam begged. 'Please! Or at least tell me where I am.'

'You're a smart boy,' his captor taunted. 'You figure it out.'

'I'm not exactly in the mood for games.' Sam called back. 'When I get out of here – and I will – I am so going to kick your ass!'

'Is that a threat or a promise?'

'You work it out.' Sam growled. 'You're so keen on riddles.'

'Just eat what's in the bucket,' said the voice. 'You must be hungry.'

Please say its demon blood, Sam prayed, silently. Please…

But no – it was nothing but a plain ham sandwich and a carton of chocolate flavoured milk. Sighing, Sam took the food out of the bucket, unwrapped the sandwich, and wolfed it down hungrily. Not that it went anywhere near hitting the spot.

'Put the rubbish back in the bucket when you're finished and give the rope a tug,' instructed the voice.

Sam literally felt the gears slip into place in his head.

'I know where I am!' he yelled. 'I'm in a well, aren't I?'

'Good boy! That's using your noodle.'

'Who are you?'

'Someone who thinks you're safer kept out of the way of everybody, that's who.'

'You… you've got to be a demon, right?'

'Bah-bum! Wrong. Two points to the other team.'

Sam racked his brain. The voice was _so_ familiar… why couldn't he see the person in his head?

'I tell you what… if you can guess who I am, you can have a nice, chocolate brownie for dessert.'

Sam's fists clenched. He wished he could teleport like Cas. Thinking about Cas made him wonder what his brother and the angel were thinking right now. Probably that I'm dead, Sam figured. Well, if I don't get out of here soon, I might well be!

He threw the empty carton into the bucket and gave the rope a tug. And didn't let go.

'Hey' said his captor, 'You're supposed to let go of the rope!'

'Fat chance, buddy.' Sam laughed. 'If you don't haul me up, I'll just climb out on my own.'

There was a maniacal laugh, and then, 'That's what you think!'

Sam had already started climbing. If he was right, the rope would be attached to a pulley system above ground, operated by winding a handle, much like a car door window before automated windows were invented. He was at least a metre and a half off the ground when the rope came loose and he and the bucket crashed to the ground.

'Argh.' Groaned Sam. He'd landed on his ass and rolled backward, hitting his head on the well wall. I might as well face it, he thought, dismally. I'm _never_ getting out of here!

* * *

It was time to put his plan into action, and strangely, Cas could not muster the enthusiasm for the rebellion he was about to set in motion. Aside from the many threats of being corn-holed by randy tattooed inmates, jail wasn't such a bad place. He really liked the treadmill at the gym. And the writing program wasn't bad, either. Although the pompous prat who ran the classes didn't accept his depiction of God casting Lucifer into the pits of hell as a work of non-fiction.

'Come on,' said Dean, impatiently, shaking Cas awake. 'It's time!'

'So what am I supposed to do while you're wining and dining the lady doctor?' Cas asked, hoping like hell his powers wouldn't flake on him when he most needed them. It had been a common problem lately. Oh, he'd gotten lucky earlier, when he'd saved Dean from experiencing Monkey Love, but what if he couldn't even zap them out of their cell?

'Wait' said Dean, grinning. 'Watch, and learn.'

Cas rolled his eyes, but said nothing. Climbing down from his bunk, he pulled on his trench coat and said a quick prayer that his powers were still good to go.

'Ready?'

'Ready as I'll ever be.'

Cas touched Dean's head with the tips of his fingers and suddenly they were standing in the hallway outside the kitchen. Dean looked both ways and snuck in, feeling like a kid at boarding school, going to a midnight feast. Grabbing a packet of crackers and a container of French Onion Dip, Dean pondered dessert. Ah, screw it, he thought. She can always have _me _for dessert!

'Are you finished?' Cas hissed, as Dean joined him back in the hall. 'Let's go before we're caught.'

'My my, aren't _we _snaky tonight.' Dean replied. 'I _had_ to get some snacks! What's a date without food?'

'You are… going to eat it, aren't you?'

Dean raised an eyebrow at his friend. 'What did you _think_ we were going to do with it?'

Cas looked decidedly uncomfortable. 'Ah… Nothing.'

Dean grinned. 'Come on, pal! You can tell me! Admit it, you tuned into the porn channel in the day room, didn't you? What were they showing, Nigella Lawson? Nine and a Half Weeks?'

'Uh… No.' said Cas, frowning. 'It was something called Embarrassing Bodies. A man was admitted into hospital needing surgery to retrieve the zucchini from his…'

'Okay, _please _don't finish that sentence.' Dean said, laughing. 'Let's go.'

* * *

Sam gritted his teeth and pulled himself another foot higher up the wall. Doing his due diligence, he'd found a spot in the well wall where there were indentations in the brick, almost as if someone before him had tried to climb out. And since, on earlier excursions around the floor, he hadn't run into any skeletons, he figured whoever had been there before him had managed to climb their way out.

It had been quiet up top for some time now. Sam took that as a good sign. Whoever his captor was must have gone away to take care of other business, whatever that be sleeping, or eating, or torturing some other poor bastard. The word torture prompted him to think of Alistair. But no, if it _had _been him, Sam would definitely have recognised him by his nasal, incredibly irritating voice. The last time Sam had had to detox, he'd hallucinated being tortured by Alistair. He remembered wanting to tear the demon's voice box out with his hands, just to stop him talking. No, whoever his captor was, it definitely _wasn't_ Alistair.

Besides, hadn't the voice said he wasn't a demon? As he worked his way up the wall at a painstakingly slow pace, Sam mentally listed all the people who might benefit from him being "out of the way". Trouble was, these days, that list was rather long.

Dean hazarded a glance through the infirmary windows. 'I don't see her.'

'You don't see in the dark, you mean' Cas reminded him. 'She won't want to turn on any lights in case she's discovered. Plus, there would be people sleeping in there.'

'We were going to meet in the office, once I got in.' Dean explained. 'But I don't see any light in there, either.'

'Check the door.' Cas whispered. 'Make sure she _has_ unlocked it.'

'You still think it's a trap, don't you?'

'Wouldn't be the first time a man has been tempted by a woman, only to be betrayed.'

'Hey, _I _was the one tempting her, okay? And you don't honestly believe all that misogynistic crap, do you?'

'What crap would that be?'

'All the stuff about Eve tempting Adam and plunging the world into sin and damnation, that's what. I thought you were finished with the Scripture.'

'Ssh!'

'What?'

'I thought I heard something, but I think it was one of the patients in the infirmary,' Cas explained. 'Coughing.'

Dean reached out for the handle on the infirmary door, and sighed with relief when it turned in his hand.

'Yes!' he whispered. 'Thank God.'

'God had nothing to do with it.'

'Will you quit it?'

Cas followed Dean as they crawled through the infirmary, winding their way around bench tops and heart monitors until they found the door to the office.

'I'll find an empty bed and pretend to be sick.,' said Cas. 'Good luck with your date.'

'Thanks, Cas,' said Dean. 'Be careful.'

Turning toward the office, he tried the door handle. It, like the infirmary door, opened easily. Glancing inside, he couldn't see Carla. Which either meant she wasn't there yet, or she never intended to be.

'She's not here.' He whispered back to Cas. 'What's the time?'

Cas pressed the light button on his watch. 'Eight thirty. What time was your date?'

'Quarter after. She's late.'

'Or she's not coming.'

'This is not a trap. She'll be here.'

'In the meantime, we'd better find some place to hide. There's only one spare bed.'

'I'll flip you for it' said Dean, producing a coin from his pocket.

Cas ducked his head. 'Someone's coming.'

'See? Told you she'd be here.'

Cas had been glancing up at the windows when he spotted a flashlight. 'It's not her. It's a warden. Hide!'

* * *

Sam felt like hammered crap. His fingers were killing him from gripping the shallow hand-holds in the wall, and his limbs were aching from the climbing. But finally, his hands found the lip of the well, and he took a deep breath, and used his last remaining strength to hoist himself up and out of there. The outside wall of the well only extended three or so feet, so he was able to swing his legs over and stand up, albeit shakily. Looking around, he couldn't see much. He appeared to be in some kind of barn or large wooden building of some kind. Light from the moon was sifting in through old, grimy windows.

Not wanting to face his captor just yet, or at least, not until he had his strength back, Sam sank to the floor, leaned against the side of the well and risked closing his eyes.

* * *

The first place both Dean and Cas thought to hide was the bed nearest to them, which was, thankfully empty. 'What are you doing?' hissed Dean. _'I'm_ hiding here!'

'So am I.'

'No you're not!'

'Shut up, and stay still.' Cas replied. 'We probably just look like a really large patient, in the dark. All he'll see is our silhouette.'

Dean held the covers over the both of them. His heart was pounding like a jackhammer, but he was surprised to find that it wasn't because he was afraid of being caught and getting a longer sentence. It was because Cas's body was so close to his, they were practically spooning. No… there was no "practically" about it. They actually _were_ spooning!

Cas's breath tickled his ear. He squirmed. 'Do you mind not doing that?'

'What? Not breathing?'

'I didn't think you angels _needed_ to breath.'

'We're not dead, Dean. Besides, the longer I'm on Earth…'

'The more you take on human characteristics. Believe me, I've noticed,' said Dean, wide-eyed. 'Um… Cas?'

'Yeah?'

'Is that a gun in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?'

'I don't understand. It's too dark to see _anything_.'

'Never mind.' Dean gulped, and tried to calm his own breathing. He'd never been this physically close to another dude before, and it wasn't affecting him the way he would have expected. The flashlight was gone from the window but neither of them had moved from the bed. Dean was glad there was a curtain around their bed, however flimsy it was. If Carla came in now, and found them, would she understand? Or would she think they'd succumbed to the same thing most of the other prisoners had – man-on-man love?

Wait – was that a hand sliding slowly, tantalizingly, down his arm?

Dean held his breath. The hand moved down to his hip. He could feel Cas's manhood; hard against the small of his back. The length of it made a certain part of _him _stir, as if awakening from a deep sleep.

But instead of feeling horrified or ashamed, Dean realised he was _excited_.

_Then_ came the horror and shame. Oh God, Dean thought; I'm _gay_!

* * *

'Well done.'

Sam opened his eyes. It took a couple of seconds for him to remember that he wasn't safe in his bed, then he followed the pair of legs in front of him up, up, up to Uriel's face.

'_You_' Sam spat, unimpressed. 'Why did you kidnap me and hide me in a well?'

'Oh, I didn't.' said Uriel. 'At least, not on my own. Zachariah helped.'

'But why?'

'Because you're a danger, Sam. A danger to everybody. You're Lucifer's vessel, and when he gets his hands on you, you're going to be the scourge of the Earth.'

'I thought you wanted that?'

'Not especially, but since my brothers are bound and determined to bring on the Apocalypse, we have to take all precautions to make sure things go as planned. We can't have you disappearing on us.'

'So it's not about keeping humans safe. It's about keeping me where you can see me.'

'Exactly.' Uriel replied.

'What's with the well? Why didn't you just throw me in a locked room?'

'That would have been too easy for someone like Gabriel to spring you.'

'And you conveniently got Dean and Cas out of the way.'

Uriel chuckled. 'No, that was their fault. But it _was_ convenient.'

'Were you ever going to get them a lawyer?'

'I don't think they'll need one. Castiel will zap them out of there, as soon as he gets his mojo back.'

'You seem awfully sure of yourself,' replied Sam.

Uriel smiled. 'Why shouldn't I be? The End is nigh, and when Michael kicks Lucifer's ass, we're all going to be sitting at the right hand of our Father. Personally, I can't think of a better ending to this God-forsaken rock.'

'And you're happy to kill everyone just so you can finally sit alongside your old man? Jesus Christ… I thought _I _had absent father issues.' Sam replied, disgusted. 'You've got a Daddy complex a mile wide.'

Uriel's eyes flashed fire. 'You don't want to piss me off, Sam Winchester! I can do way worse things to you than sticking you down a hole and letting you rot.'

Sam sighed, and swallowed down his anger. 'Will you at least get me something to eat?'

Uriel laughed. 'Something in a _demon_, perhaps? What do you take me for?'

'Normal food will do.'

'I doubt that, somehow. You're jonesing for a fix, Winchester. It's written all over your sweaty, quivering face.'

'I'm not addicted.' Sam insisted. 'I can give up whenever I want.'

'Really?' Uriel said, thoughtfully. 'I'd like to see _that_.'

Sam saw his opportunity. 'Then let me prove it to you. Get me a demon.'

'Hm..' said Uriel. 'This could be interesting. But you must understand, I have to take precautions, first.'

Sam frowned. 'What kind of precautions?'

Uriel moved it and touched his forehead. Next thing Sam knew, he was strapped to a chair in a small, windowless room. Uriel stood at the door. 'I'll be back with a snack.'

* * *

Before Dean could figure out what was going on and stage a revolt, Cas was kissing his neck, and gripping his waist with a firm hand. A leg draped over his, a strong, lean thigh made sure he wasn't going anywhere.. Dean's heart was slamming against his ribcage, as he felt Cas's lips graze his skin; his rough stubble scratching an itch he never knew he had. Cas's hand slipped up and under Dean's t-shirt, exploring his body tantalisingly slowly, until his palm brushed Dean's nipple, and settled over the centre of Dean's chest, right over his galloping heart. Dean thought about asking Cas what the hell he thought he was doing, but that might mean that all this would stop, and he and Cas would go back to their awkward, sexually-charged friendship.

He didn't want that. He put his hand over Cas's, and moved it down, down, past his navel, under the waistband of his pants, and hit pay-dirt.

Cas breathing sounded shaky, but he didn't withdraw his hand. Instead, he caressed and fondled Dean until the older Winchester brother's breathing was ragged. Cas kissed his shoulder. 'I want you so bad,' he whispered. 'I don't think I've ever wanted anything more.'

'Do it' Dean whispered. 'Oh God, _please_ do it, before I change my mind.'


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

'Turn over.' Cas whispered. 'Lie on your back.'

Dean obeyed, curiosity getting the better of him. Cas was up on one elbow, his hand still inside Dean's boxers. Dean could just see the silhouette of the angel's handsome face, the rise of his shoulder, and the way his body tapered down at the waist, like an athlete. What the hell is wrong with me, he thought. Why am I looking at a guy the way I usually look at girls?

Cas leaned in and kissed Dean, his right hand working on ridding his cellmate of his jeans and boxer shorts. Dean had never kissed a man before but he had to admit, he thought he could learn to like it. The way Cas's tongue flickered in his mouth made him think about how it would feel somewhere else, and just the thought was enough to make Dean almost blow his load.

Suddenly Cas had moved from his mouth, kissing his way down Dean's chest, to his abs. Dean closed his eyes and struggled to keep his composure as Cas's lips travelled further south. But all was lost when Cas took Dean in his mouth. Dean's back arched with release, almost immediately, and he let out the breath he'd been holding for God only knew how long.

'There you two are!'

Cas and Dean sprang apart so quickly that Cas almost fell off the bed. The curtain behind him was ripped open, and there stood Carla, with a flashlight.

'I thought we had a date.' She said to Dean, accusingly. 'But I guess you found something better to do.'

She eyed Cas, and smiled. 'Can't say I blame you, though! Who is _this_?'

Cas wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. 'My name is Castiel…'

'We're just friends.' Dean tried to say, as he yanked his jeans back up and zipped his fly.

'Oh _yeah_, right!' Carla laughed. 'Friends with benefits!'

Dean's jaw dropped. 'You're _not_ mad?'

'Of _course_ not! I _told_ you the inmates around here have a strange habit of falling for each other! And do you know _why_ that is?'

'No.'

Cas got to his feet and leaned on the edge of the bed, crossing his arms and giving Carla one of his best wide-eyed stares. 'But please, feel free to enlighten us.'

'Wait' said Dean. 'We're making a hell of a noise. What about the other patients?'

'Oh they're asleep, trust me,' said Carla. 'When you've been as busy as they have, you tend to go out like a light.'

'Busy?'

'Yeah.'

'Doing what?'

'Dean, really.' Carla shook her head and smiled. 'What do _you _think?'

'Ruby?'

Sam couldn't believe his eyes. He rubbed them, blinked, stared, then rubbed them again. Uriel and Zachariah stood passively behind her. Their job, seemingly, was done.

She nodded. 'Hi, Sam. How's the Apocalypse working for ya?'

'I thought you were dead! We _killed_ you! After you tricked me into breaking the last seal!'

'Yeah, sorry about that.' Ruby replied, not sounding sorry at all. 'But luckily for me, I had some angels on my side who thought I'd done such a good job; they retrieved me from Hell and gave me a pay raise.'

Sam glowered at her. 'So what now, you're going to make me feed from you? Because there's no way you're getting near _me_ again, Hell-Bitch.'

Ruby made puppy-dog eyes at him, and dared to step closer. 'Are you _sure_? Because I seem to remember you saying my blood was the most delicious demon blood you'd ever tasted.'

Sam narrowed his eyes. 'What – you can't tell when a guy's buttering you up to get you in bed?'

Ruby laughed. 'That won't work with me, Sam. _I_ was the one who had to make the first move with you, remember? _I _do. I remember _everything_.'

'Get away from me, Bitch.' Sam growled, holding his hands up in self-defence. He was still very weak from his arduous climb out of the well, not to mention the lack of food he'd had in the last three days. Suddenly the thought of Ruby's blood didn't seem like sucking down pure poison, after all.

'Sam,' said Ruby, sweetly, pulling up the arm of her jacket, 'You _know_ you want it.'

Dean made a disgusted face. 'What are you? Some kind of perverted sex fairy? This how you get your kicks, watching men together?'

'Not a fairy, a Nymph.' Carla replied.

'Aah,' said Cas, knowingly. 'Of course!'

'What – you're a nymphomaniac?' Dean asked, still completely confused. 'Or do you just like to watch?'

'Not _that_ kind of nymph.' Carla said, sighing. 'Although that's where the term comes from.'

'They're a very, _very _old race.' Cas interjected. 'Almost as old as the Garden of Eden itself. They are lovers at heart. Sort of like Cupid, but not so concerned with whether a couple actually _like_ each other or not.'

Dean swallowed. It was all starting to make sense. 'So… you _made_ us have feelings for each other?' he asked Carla. 'I guess the 64 thousand dollar question is: Why?'

'Because that's what I do.' Carla said, simply. 'But I can't simply create feelings of lust where there are none. They have to be there already, simmering under the surface. I just help the cream rise to the top – pardon the pun.' She grinned. 'It happened a lot faster with you guys than I expected, actually. It must have been brewing for some time.'

Dean chose to ignore that. He was currently trying to justify everything that had happened since they were thrown in that cell as the manifestation of some kind of enchantment. Why else would he let a guy blow him? He looked over at Cas, and was bothered to the core that he still found the angel incredibly hot.

He longed to reach out and run his hand through Cas's thick dark hair; lure him back up onto the bed…

Dean twitched, and crossed his arms over his chest defensively. They were safer tucked away!

'Can you make it stop?' he asked.

'If I go away, the feelings you have will go back in their little Pandora's boxes and you can stick your head in the sand for as long as you like, they'll always be there. You'll _always_ be curious, Dean.'

'I'm not gay!'

'I know, and neither is Cas. I can sense these things.'

'So… why do you do it? Screwing around with people's heads? Is this just a game to you?'

Carla shook her head, doing her best to look sympathetic but coming off as insincere.

'Dean… I'm not doing it to screw with your head, baby. I just thought you could use a little pleasure before the hell of the Apocalypse hits. And I couldn't help but notice the way you and Cas looked at each other in here, earlier today. You might say I _thrive_ on unresolved sexual tension. And boy do you guys have it. In _spades_'

'We don't have any URST! There's no URST here!' said Dean, gesturing between him and Cas, frantically. 'It's all in your head, lady!'

Carla smiled. 'Believe what you want, Dean. But I heard you a minute ago. I _heard_ you beg Cas to fuck you. "Do it", you said, "Oh God, please, do it before I change my mind." Your words; verbatim.'

Dean rubbed his face with his hand. 'I-I was in the grip of… of… a spell, or something!'

'You were reacting to your own suppressed feelings, Dean. Do yourself a favour and at least own up to that.'

Dean glanced over at Cas, who'd been very quiet for some time. 'Cas? You okay?'

Cas nodded. 'Certain things are… starting to make a lot of sense to me.' He replied, his voice sounding more gravelly than usual.

Dean closed his eyes. 'So… while you're here… working here, these… feelings we're having… they're not going to go away, are they?' he asked the Nymph.

'No, Dean. So you might as well do something about it.' Carla glanced at both men. 'I'll leave you two alone – give you some privacy.' She started to head out the door, when Dean sprang off the bed as if shot in the ass, and followed her out into the hallway. 'No! No, we don't need privacy! We're all good, here.'

But Carla was already gone.

'I'm not going to drink your blood, Ruby. So put your arm away, and get lost.'

'But you're so weak, Sam. Uriel told me that you haven't had a lot of food or water for three whole days! You need energy, if you're going to play host to Lucifer…'

Sam clenched his fist and let out an angry howl. 'Aaaaarrrgghh! How many times do I have to tell you people, that ain't never gonna happen…'

'Just drink, Sam,' ordered Zachariah. One look at Ruby and a slit appeared halfway up the inside of her arm. She held it out to him.

Sam looked from Ruby, to Zachariah, to Uriel. 'Ah' he sighed, a plan forming in his head. 'What the hell.'

Grabbing Ruby's wrist, he pulled her to him and sucked on the sweet liquid seeping from her wound. She made a strange sighing sound, as if she liked it. I'll show you, thought Sam, and bit down, hard.

'Ow! Fuck! You bastard!' yelled Ruby, but Sam didn't let go. He held her arm in an iron grip, and drank, and drank, and drank. Ruby collapsed to her knees as her vessel became weak from blood loss. By the time she was all but drained, her head was in Sam's lap.

At last, Sam felt Ruby's blood pressure drop to nothing, and he let go. Pushing her dead vessel away from him, he stood up, fully charged… and _pissed_.

He felt like laughing. Uriel and Zachariah – two of the strongest archangels besides Lucifer and Michael – actually looked almost scared. 'Get out of my way.' He told them. 'I'm getting out of here.'

'I don't think so' Uriel tried to say, but Sam was having none of that. He put a hand out to push the angel aside, but got an almighty surprise when Uriel flew into the air and hit the wall.

Sam turned to the pudgy, self-important Zachariah. 'What did you do, give her your own blood?'

He shook his head. 'She's not a vampire, Sam. Not like you.'

'I'm not a vampire.'

'You may as well be. A vampire nightmare for demons everywhere! Where do you think you're going, Sam?'

'Dean and Cas need me. And you can get out of my way, as well – but not until you tell me what was different about Ruby's blood.'

'Okay' said Zachariah. 'Let's just say she's been eating her Weeties. We wanted you to be strong when the time came to be Lucifer's vessel, so…'

'So you starved me for three days then threw me a big juicy bone on an empty stomach? What was it, steroids? And why would you want Lucifer to win? You're supposed to be angels, for Christ's sake! If you're on anyone's side, it should be Michael's.'

'You misunderstand us, Sam,' said Uriel, getting to his feet and brushing himself off. 'Lucifer's our brother, too. We just want it to be a fair fight.'

Sam stared at Zachariah. 'Is this true?'

But the angel didn't have to answer, because before Sam knew what was happening, he could hear the angel's thoughts!

"_Actually," Zachariah thought, "I've got two thou on Michael getting his sissy ass handed to him". _

Sam was struck dumb with disbelief. Finally, he found his tongue. 'You're _laying bets_ on the Apocalypse?'

Uriel looked uncomfortable, but didn't answer. His brother smiled. 'Well, why not? Beats sitting around waiting for those two spoiled brats to start fighting over whose Daddy's favourite son! Because that's what it amounts to, isn't it? Oh look, you can go.'

'Really?' asked Sam, not willing to believe it would be this easy.

'Yeah yeah, go! Just give your brother a message when you see him – we're watching. We're always watching.'

Sam rolled his eyes. 'Pfft. Whatever.' He brushed past Zachariah and made for the door before the angels could change their minds.

'When Michael comes down for his vessel, Dean better be ready.' Zachariah shouted.

Dean and Cas hurried over to the stairwell which led to the fire escape. Hurrying down three flights of stairs without making a lot of noise was hard, but they managed it. They hadn't said much to each other since Carla left the infirmary – it was all too tense and strange. Cas had merely reminded Dean that they had a plan to swing into action and if they didn't do it now, and get the hell out of this place, then who knew what might eventuate. As they reached the ground floor, Dean's phone started to blare "Highway to Hell". He pulled it out of his back pocket before it could give away their location and spoke in a hushed voice. '_Sam_? Boy am I glad to hear from you! Where the hell have you been?'

'There's no time for that. Where are you? I'm coming to bust you out.'

'We're at the fire escape.'

'Good. I researched the blue prints to that place and there's a wire gate along the south side with barbed wire along the top. It's not far from where you are. I'm bringing a pair of pliers.'

'It couldn't be that easy,' said Dean. 'It's not an electrified fence, is it?'

'Not now. I just found the junction box.'

'Where are you?'

'On the other side of the fence, you newb! Move your asses before you get caught.'

Once they were all back in the Impala, heading down Route 6 toward their next job and as far away from the prison as they could get, Sam told them where he'd been and about the confusing motives of the two angels who had been holding him captive. Dean and Cas agreed that the situation did seem well and truly FUBAR. But they still hadn't said a word to each other, and wouldn't, as both were worried that something would show in their voices; something would give the game away, tell Sam what had happened between them. When he'd asked how jail was, Dean shrugged and said 'At least I managed not to get myself shivved.', and Cas mumbled something about the pompous jerk who told him he couldn't possibly have been witness to the Crucifixion when he handed in his essay entitled Earliest Memories, during writing class.

Several hours after they checked into their motel, Dean snuck out of the room, leaving Cas and Sam on their single beds, snoring away softly. He needed to get out – needed some fresh air, so he drove to a hilly lookout he'd spotted on the way to the motel, and sat quietly in the driver's seat, muddling over recent events in his head.

'Hi, Dean.'

He jumped out of his skin. 'Cas! I wish you wouldn't do that! How did you know where I was?'

'I just wished myself into the Impala, and here I am.' Explained the angel. 'We need to talk.'

'You know, I really was hoping for a bit of quiet time. You know, just me? That's why I left the motel in the first place.'

Cas nodded. 'I know, but if we don't talk soon, and straighten this little… problem we have out, Sam's _going_ to notice something's up.'

Dean frowned. 'But… we're away from Carla, now! Almost twenty miles away! There should be nothing between us now. We're just a couple of buds who happened to get caught up in a weird sex freak show, courtesy of a Nymph.'

Cas glanced over at him, doubt in his eyes. 'Is that what you really think happened?'

'Yes. Now could we please stop talking about it, and forget it ever happened?'

'Actually Dean, I think I'm going to have trouble doing that, and so are you, because you can't even bring yourself to look at me.'

Dean turned toward Cas. 'There. I'm looking at you. Satisfied?'

Cas looked at Dean carefully. Sweaty brow, trembling lips, wide eyes – the guy was trying his hardest to keep it together, but he was visibly falling apart. Cas put a hand on Dean's leg. It was meant to be a reassuring thing, but Dean didn't take it that way, brushing it off like it was a spider.

Cas looked hurt. 'Dean – you have to accept that at least part of what Carla was saying was true. Here we are – miles from her, like you said, and you look like you're in full denial. We kissed… among other things. You can't just pretend that never happened.'

Dean clutched the steering wheel of the Impala and stared ahead, trembling from head to foot. 'I'm not gay.'

Cas let his eyes wander down from Dean's face to his arms – which were ramrod straight and holding onto that steering wheel for dear life. Further down, a bulge in the front of his jeans could not be mistaken for anything other than an erection. 'I know _you're_ not gay' said Cas. Gulping, he added, 'But I'm starting to think _I _might be.'

Dean looked over at his friend. 'Are you serious?'

'Yes. I've never been more serious in my life.'

Judging by the fact that Cas had had a _long_ life, and most of the time he was as serious as death and taxes (unless he was drunk), Dean could appreciate the gravity of Cas's revelation.

'Well, man.' He said, 'I'm there for you. I really am. I…' Before he could finish, Cas had leaned across and was kissing him with a fervour Dean couldn't resist. He kissed back, hungrily, running his hand through Cas's hair like he'd wanted to back in the infirmary. Grabbing it in his fist, he forced Cas's head down toward his lap. Cas didn't fight it. Before long Dean was gasping and moaning, his eyes rolling back, his thighs on fire. When Cas was finished, he looked up at Dean and suggested they move to the back seat because there was "a lot more room to move back there."

After a second of misgivings, Dean popped the glove box and retrieved a condom, then joined Cas, What followed was one of the steamiest encounters he'd ever had in the Impala. Including a certain tryst with the female angel, Anna. Cas was a curious mix of dominance and submission all wrapped up in the one extremely neat celestial package. One minute he was roughly kissing Dean, the next he was submitting to a blow job. Dean looked up and was privately thrilled to see Cas's eyes closed. He loved the look on the angel's face as he reached orgasm, and the way he threw an arm out and gripped the back of the passenger seat as he came. Dean sat up and unzipped his pants.

'We're really going to do this?' Cas asked him, a strange look of excitement and trepidation on his face.

Dean looked over at him, and gave him the thumbs up. Sighing, he glanced out over the lights of Detroit.

'I must be fricking crazy.'

After a sweaty, furious five minutes on the back seat of the Impala, Dean buried beneath Cas, cheek-to-cheek with the upholstery, until they both cried out from release, the two men sat up, exchanged pleasantries, and vowed silently never to do this again. Not because it was awkward, or painful, or just plain weird, (it wasn't any of those things) but because they'd nipped it in the bud. They'd gotten each other out of their systems. Finally.

Or so they thought…

The End


End file.
